


It's Already Begun

by szhismine



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szhismine/pseuds/szhismine
Summary: "After all, what is real, if your perceptions cannot be trusted?"Expanding on Anduin's meeting with Wrathion. How can a king fight off an Old God?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	It's Already Begun

**Author's Note:**

> My first WoW fic! This is entirely based on the 8.3 cinematic of Wrathion and Anduin's meeting, which I really wanted to flesh out. I don't think N'Zoth's influence on Anduin was sudden, nor immediately dissipated. (This is a one-shot but with room for a sequel, if I'm so inspired!) Please enjoy, and feel free to leave feedback!!!

The moon was rising in the sky as nighttime settled in across the Eastern Kingdom. Inside Stormwind Keep, the usual hustle and bustle was dying down. Guards were changing shifts, lights were being extinguished, and those who could sleep were preparing for a peaceful night.

In his chambers, King Anduin Wrynn sighed in relief as he shrugged off his overcoat. It wasn't nearly as heavy as his armor, but wearing it all day did get tiresome, especially in the hot summer months. He'd never complain; appearances and all that. But in the privacy of his own bedroom, he groaned in satisfaction as he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.

As he got ready for bed, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror, barely recognizing the face that stared back at him. As a prince, he'd had to grow up quickly, but his last years as a teenager flew by so fast he was only now coming to terms with how much older he felt. The crown was indeed a burden, especially a crown worn during two consecutive wars. Tonight was the first time in months he was going to sleep at a reasonable hour. As he settled into his bed, Anduin knew he made the right decision. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

*

_Whispers in the dark. Screams of anguish. Anduin heard them, but saw no one. He couldn't even see his own hand as he held it in front of his face. He called out in the darkness, but his voice was silent. He searched inside himself for the Light, but found nothing. The whispers got louder, unintelligible and threatening. The ground rumbled beneath him, and suddenly he could see. Tentacles swarmed him, grabbing and pulling him in every direction. The harder he fought, the harder they clung to him. One wrapped around his torso and squeezed. As Anduin choked, the space in front of him shimmered. An orange eye appeared, watching him struggle and emitting rage in its stare. An unholy voice rasped an ancient language as more and more tentacles tried to tear the young king apart._

_Anduin couldn't breathe. His vision began to fade, consumed by blackness and evil. He gasped one last time, and with the last breath of air in his lungs, he screamed._

The king bolted upright in bed, immediately running his hands over his chest to pull the tentacles away, but there weren't any. He could breathe; his chest heaved and his heart raced, but he could breathe.

“It was only a dream, it was just a dream.” Drawing his knees up and resting his forehead against them, Anduin closed his eyes in prayer. “Light help me...” In moments he felt the warm, familiar presence of the Holy Light within him. He let it wash over him until his pulse slowed and his panic was gone. Nightmares were nothing new to him, but the intensity of this one was indescribable. After several minutes he let out a long, slow, exhale, before uncurling and looking up.

A bright orange eye was watching him from the foot of his bed.

“AUGH!” Anduin instinctively summoned the Light, and a bright glow emanated from his hand. By the time his bedroom was fully illuminated, the eye was gone.

The door burst open as two guards rushed in with their swords drawn. “Your majesty!?”

“It's okay,” Anduin replied quickly, holding his hand up. “Sorry. Uh... false alarm. Everything's fine, thank you.”

After seeing the guards out, Anduin went around his room, lighting every lamp and candle he had. He splashed his face with water, then changed his sweat-soaked nightshirt. It took nearly an hour for him to feel calm again. He reached out with the Light, but felt no trace of magic or evil. A quick search revealed nothing. There was nothing to do except go back to bed, which he reluctantly did. Even with the lamps lit, Anduin couldn't let himself close his eyes. The horrifying imagery lingered in his mind, and he got no more rest that night.

*

Lack of sleep was followed by lack of appetite. Breakfast was usually Anduin's favourite meal, but the sweet and savoury smells of his food were dulled. He knew he had to eat something, so he attempted a bite of toast, but nearly gagged as it tasted of ash in his mouth. He quickly chalked it up to his unpleasant night and gave up on the notion of eating. At least the tea was strong enough to wash down the aftertaste.

“Good morning, King Anduin,” one of his servants greeted cheerfully. “Here's your list of meetings for today. King Greymane asks that you consider...”

Anduin tuned out the man, giving his duties a cursory look. His morning was reserved for going over logistics with his captains, to coordinate efforts to get the 7th Legion back to Stormwind as soon as possible, but at noon his spymasters would update him on their investigation into N'Zoth's whereabouts. That meeting held new importance, after last night.

_'Should I tell someone about what I saw?'_ The question plagued Anduin as he left the dining hall. Absently he pressed his hand against his chest, where he felt a strange, uneasy feeling. It reminded him of his dream, of being squeezed by a giant tentacle as an orange eye glowered at him.

*

The morning was a slog that wore away at Anduin. At noon, he was seated at his throne, hunched over and tense. Baine Bloodhoof and Mayla Highmountain were present as representatives of the Horde; their aid would no doubt be needed against N'Zoth. Anduin considered Baine a close friend, but he didn't have the energy to give him much more than a polite greeting. If the chieftain noticed the king's mood, he said nothing of it.

Valeera Sanguinar and Mathias Thaw stood in front of their king, clearly aware of- and caught off guard by- Anduin's demeanor. Normally reserved and level-headed, he was seething with impatience. Mathias steeled himself before he began to report their progress- or lack thereof- on tracking down the latest threat to Azeroth.

The spymaster barely finished talking before Anduin dug into him with hostility. “You mean to tell me none of your spies have returned? N'Zoth is out there and we need answers now!”

“We are doing all we can,” Mathias placated. “Speaker Magni is coming, along with a new... advisor. He claims to have information for us.” Beside him, Valeera sneered.

“By the Light, a _new advisor_.” Anduin didn't even try to hide his contempt. He could barely keep track of the “advisors” he already had, now he was getting another? He rubbed his head, seriously considering using his royal prerogative to simply end the meeting and sneak down to the kitchen. His appetite had returned with a vengeance; perhaps food and rest were all he needed to get rid of his lingering unease.

The sound of a throat clearing drew everyone's attention, and Anduin looked up at the two figures approaching the throne. Speaker Magni's distinct diamond form was a welcome sight. But next to him was...

“Wrathion.” Suddenly the angry embers in Anduin's heart flared into a raging fire. He leapt to his feet, pushing past his spies, hearing fervent voices in his ear whispering, ' _The Broken Shore. Your father. Because of him...'_

“Anduin!” Wrathion raised his arms in greeting as if nothing were amiss. “It's been so long-”

The king's fist flew, connecting with Wrathion's face and making him stumble back. “Ach, dragons,” Magni muttered, as if not entirely surprised by the reception.

For a moment, Wrathion's usual smirk was replaced with a shocked expression. He held a hand to his cheek, where black cracks in his human visage had formed and quickly healed. “Heh. I suppose I deserved that.” Just like that, his composure returned.

“Oh you deserve more than that. My father is DEAD because of you!” Anduin's arm trembled at his side, barely restrained against the whispers that urged him to lash out again.

“And _my_ father is dead because of the Old Gods,” Wrathion replied calmly.

The former friends stared each other down, until Magni broke the tense silence. “Lad, he's come to help us.” His voice cut through the chaos, and just like that, the whispers were gone. Anduin backed off, able to think again, though his angry gaze didn't waver. Wrathion, of course, merely smirked.

*

Baine had been the one to suggest a walk outside. Mayla politely declined to join them, and Mathias and Valeera slipped away without a word. Anduin wondered if it was because of his outburst, but he was too worked up to offer any apologies. It took everything just to not have Wrathion thrown in the stockade.

The group stepped outside. The cool breeze and smell of salt water from the harbour were refreshing, but not quite enough to distract Anduin from his mood. As they walked, Wrathion began to explain his partnership with Magni. “Neltharion the Earth-Warder was once the protector of Azeroth. But N'Zoth turned a noble mind to madness, and now my father is only remembered as Deathwing. And, as I haven't the least desire to share that fate, I've been studying how to avoid it.”

Anduin had hoped that the sight of the Cathedral would bring him some measure of calm, but it did nothing to soothe him. The little patience he'd managed to gather was already gone. “Just tell me how to prepare for this attack. Our armies-”  
  
“Will be useless.” Anduin bristled at the insult, but Wrathion continued. “N'Zoth will strike _here_.” He pointed at Anduin's forehead, making the king recoil slightly. “He'll manipulate emotions, get people to act in ways contrary to their nature.”

Anduin looked down. He hadn't even noticed his fist was still clenched, and it took a strange amount of effort to unfurl his fingers. Time seemed to slow around him, and Wrathion's voice faded away. “You won't be able to trust your senses-”

_Pained screams. Whispers. So many voices..._ He turned quickly, horror dawning on him as the sky darkened.

“-your memories, your friends...”

_More whispers. More screams. Shrieking. The pain of thousands of tormented souls._ Anduin cringed as his ears were assaulted.

“After all, what is real-”

_Purple clouds filled the black sky. An explosive sound hit him as a giant monstrosity appeared in the heart of the city._

“-if your perceptions cannot be trusted?”

_As the behemoth rose into the sky, a great orange eye- the same eye from his dream- opened. Anduin sucked in a terrified breath. Stormwind was under attack, and he didn't know how to defend against this enemy._

“Anduin?”

_Massive tentacles wormed their way up through the ground. His people were in danger, he HAD to get them to safety, but he couldn't speak or move._

“Anduin!?”

_Even the Light was helpless against the onslaught, as the creature's tentacles wrapped around the Cathedral. Anduin could only watch as the steeple crumbled and started to fall-_

“ANDUIN!”

The king blinked, and the horrific vision was gone. The sky was bright and blue, and the Cathedral was intact. Shaken, he turned back to Wrathion, who watched him knowingly. “Don't you see, old friend? It's already begun.”

He understood. “Very well, advisor. Tell us how to stop him.”

*

The throne room was quiet. Wrathion was gone, after laying out a course of action to pursue. There was no time to waste, and he knew not to over-extend his welcome. Baine and Mayla were already on their way back to Orgrimmar to update the Council. Anduin regretted not having more time for them, but at least he managed to apologize to them before they left. Neither tauren held Anduin's anger against him, and for that he was grateful, but the shame lingered.

N'Zoth had infiltrated his dreams, then his waking hours as well. Somehow the realization- or perhaps it was something Wrathion had done- had lifted the dark influence from his mind and soul. _'At least for now.'_ He felt himself again, but there was no comfort to it. He wanted to confide in Magni, tell him of his visions, but then the dwarf asked for his hammer back. And as soon as he had it, he wanted to get back to Silithus. Anduin couldn't, in good conscience, keep Magni from his task longer than necessary.

Once the Speaker was gone, Anduin ordered the guards out of the war room. The rest of his council seemed to know not to disturb him- no doubt his spymaster had already informed the others of the meeting, including his theatrical reunion with Wrathion- and he lost track of time as he stood staring at the empty spot on the wall where Fearbreaker used to be.

He hadn't lied to Magni; he was relieved it was back in the hands of someone who could properly wield it. It was a weapon that certainly deserved to be in good hands, and Anduin had to focus on improving his sword skills, now that he bore Shalamayne. But during the war, during those long nights and tense strategy meetings and painful casualty reports, he could look at Fearbreaker and be reminded of a time before the fate of the world rested in his hands. Now it was gone, and with it another piece of his youth.

A voice pulled Anduin out of his reverie. “I heard you punched a dragon today.”

For once, Genn Greymane's tone wasn't chiding. Anduin turned to face him, arching an eyebrow. “Shouldn't you be telling me that a king can't go around hitting his allies?”

“Probably. But truth be told, if I were there I'd have punched him myself.” Genn leaned against the war table and shrugged. “Or torn his head off. One or the other.”

Genn wasn't kidding, and they both knew it, but Anduin chuckled anyway. “I think I'd prefer a lecture, actually. I don't feel proud of how I acted.”

“Bah, don't feel too bad,” the worgen replied. “You're not the first king of Stormwind to lose his temper in the throne room. I'm a bit impressed you even had it in you.”

“No,” Anduin insisted forcefully. “I don't want to be that kind of king.” His hand flexed at his side. “I was already in a foul mood, and when I saw Wrathion's face... by the Light, Genn, if I'd had my sword with me I might have cut him down where he stood. I've never felt such anger in my life.” He let out a resigned sigh. “I fear N'Zoth already has a foothold on my mind.”

Genn's brow furrowed. “What? What do you mean?”

“It started last night. I had a nightmare... I can't explain it. And then outside, when Wrathion was talking...” Anduin but his lip. “I saw it. N'Zoth appeared in the city, he destroyed the Cathedral-”

“No, he didn't.” Genn reached out and squeezed Anduin's shoulder. “Whatever you saw, _it wasn't real._ ”

“But it can be! It could happen at any time!” He pulled away from Genn's grasp. “This is different than the fight against the Legion, or against Sylvanas.” Anduin's shoulders sagged. “N'Zoth is already in my head, and he took hold so easily. How can I win this fight if I've already lost? I haven't felt this helpless since...” he trailed off.

It didn't take much effort for Genn to fill in the blanks. “Since your father died,” he said gently.

Anduin nodded. “I'm sure Wrathion and Magni will come up with a plan, but until then, it's out of my hands. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” He gestured to the war table, which was littered with requisitions and reports. “This all seems so insignificant now.”

Genn shook his head. “The work still needs to be done, but more importantly, your people still need you. Every minute you spend fighting your demons, be they real or imagined, you do it for them. Whatever this threat is, we will find a way to stop it. We've lost too many innocent lives already to just give up now. As a king... you don't get to give up.”

A long moment of silence passed. When Anduin spoke again, his voice was sombre. “Genn. I want you to promise me that if I become... compromised, you'll do _everything_ you can to keep me from endangering the kingdom.”

Genn grimaced. He knew what Anduin was really asking, and the familiar pain of his son's death flared in his chest. In these moments it was harder to think of Anduin as a king, instead of just a young man. “My boy-”

“Swear to me!” Anduin insisted. His gaze softened. “You're the only one I can trust this request to.”

“Alright,” Genn agreed reluctantly. “I swear. _If_ you swear that you'll never stop fighting N'Zoth's influence. No matter how much it claws and eats away at you, _do not_ stop fighting it.”

The young king nodded, thinking back to the day he went to the Broken Shore. His father hadn't stopped fighting, right up to the very end. He wouldn't either. “I swear.”

“Good.” Genn looked like he had more to say on the matter, but instead he changed the subject. “Now, I also heard that you skipped breakfast. Come join me for lunch.” His tone left no room for argument.

Anduin huffed and shook his head fondly. “Who told you that?”

Genn waved a hand dismissively. “I don't reveal my sources.”

The servants, then. Knowing his people cared that much about him made Anduin smile. The two kings walked in step towards the dining hall, talking of more lighthearted matters. For an hour, at least, they could put their worries aside.

And in the darkness, N'Zoth waited.


End file.
